


With These Two Hands

by ariannadi



Series: Post-Trespasser [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Husband Worries for His Wife, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariannadi/pseuds/ariannadi
Summary: Up until that point, his love had been there for him whenever she could, no matter the circumstance.And just this once, he couldn't even do the same.





	With These Two Hands

He hasn’t prayed like this in… well, forever. 

But he finds, in this moment, it’s all he _can_ do.

As he falls to his knees before the statue of Andraste placed conveniently in the palace gardens, his thoughts are overcome with frightened blue eyes and a shaky voice revealing to him the hard-hitting truth:

_“I don’t want to die… not while the world still needs me.”_

His beloved, his beautiful love, she was always so brave. Always so _selfless._

He and Arian had only been married for a week, a measly seven days, and in that time an invasion plot involving reactivated Eluvians had been uncovered and the Exalted Council was ready to slice the Inquisition in two.

But Cullen, oddly enough, doesn’t care about _any_ of it. Right now, the only thing that held his concern was his Inquisitor; _his wife._

He saw the crackling green static of the Mark, saw the pained expression on her face that she so valiantly tried to shield from his searching eyes as he embraced her with everything he possessed.

It was quickly killing her, and he couldn’t do a _damned_ thing about it. Not a single _fucking_ thing.

It all comes crashing around him in an instant - the thoughts of demise and helplessness, and in his secluded privacy he quietly begins to weep.

He gladly would’ve tossed his position as Commander in an instant to go after her when she entered the Eluvian for what could’ve been the last time, but he knows she wouldn’t have wanted it.

He knows she would’ve wanted him to remain _strong;_ for the Inquisition, for _her._

And so he stays, and wills his tears to do the same.

Leliana ends up joining him eventually, approaching cautiously so not as to startle him.

“Leave me,” he demands of her, and his voice is dry. All of the emotion has been drained from him in the form of the tracks sliding down his cheeks.

Leliana doesn’t leave. Instead, she comes to his side and kneels, offering a quick prayer to the Maker to bring them both consolation. 

“I know you’re afraid,” she then says, and Cullen laughs, but it’s dark and void of any humor.

“There were nights when I couldn’t even remember who I was; when I would shout and scream into the darkness in fear of demons who weren’t even there.” Leliana raises a brow at the admission, but he continues. 

“There were afternoons when I couldn’t swallow a spoonful of broth without my stomach retching every last thing I had consumed in two days time. There were mornings when I was delirious with fever, when the sheets on my bed felt like chains holding me in place. Arian was there for every instance possible. She would soothe me through the nightmares, she would sing to me through the tears. She would brew me a potion in the dead of night when I had aches, she would run to the end of the keep to summon the surgeon when things got beyond her control.” By now, his voice is almost incomprehensible, but he bloody well doesn’t care.

“Why are you telling me this?” Leliana questions in true curiosity, holding one hand up as if contemplating how to help the broken man.

Cullen’s brow furrows into a deep crevice, and he heaves another sob that wracks his entire body. ”Arian stayed at my side, even when I begged of her not to fret over my condition. And yet here I am without her - I, the person who just vowed to be there for her _always_. And _I_ … I can’t do anything about it. I can’t do _anything._ ” His teeth harshly grind together, the last words like the hiss of a viper against his lips.

In a moment of true surprise, Leliana leans forward and rests her hand on his shoulder, offering him the most sincere look he’s ever seen from the Spymaster in the time he’s known her.

“Have faith in her, Cullen,” she asks of him, squeezing at his arm. “Whatever force is behind all of this, they are on her side. They have been since the beginning.” The Commander doesn’t respond, instead staring toward the ground with a hardened expression.

“If- _when_ she does come back, I’m taking her away from here. No more nobles, no more spies, no more assassins. She doesn’t deserve this, not after everything she’s endured.”

Leliana nods, and glances down at the same spot his focus is settled on. “Josephine says she’s sorry for her outburst earlier. We didn’t realize-”

“It’s not me she should be apologizing to,” Cullen snaps, whipping his head back toward the statue in front of him. “Arian brought Ferelden and Orlais from the brink of disaster, and how do they repay her? By threatening to knock her to her feet. Josephine can bow to whoever she’d like, but I won’t stand for such.”

“You know she’s only concerned for what’s best for the Inquisition,” Leliana reasons, and it makes Cullen angrier.

“And is anyone concerned for what’s best for Arian?” he retorts, his eyes practically on fire. “Is anyone concerned with the fact that my wife is out there  _dying_ as we speak?” his voice cracks, and he falters, curling in on himself as his fists lash out at the ground beneath him.

He knows Leliana is watching him in pity, but he doesn’t care. He hears the woman slowly stand, and she begins to say his name, but then she silences herself, and he soon hears the sound of her footsteps fading away.

That leaves him alone in the gardens once more, and if he’s honest with himself, he truly wishes Leliana hadn’t left.

 

* * *

 

Arian returns a few hours later, in the form of a limp body in Bull’s arms.

At first, Cullen believes her dead, and he roars in agony outright. It takes three soldiers to keep him at bay as he forces himself toward her, but they manage. The healers come and remove what remains of her left forearm, then declare her stable. She’s moved to her own room on the third floor of the palace.

Cullen doesn’t leave her side after that. The maids offer him food or drink every few hours but he negates it all. His hands are clasped around his wife’s remaining one, his grip a silent plea for her to open her eyes and reassure him she’s _alive._

It takes another two days, but she comes to in the form of a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. After embracing the breath out of her, he immediately apologizes for his absence, for everything, and she simply laughs as she urges him to just bloody kiss her.

They agree to disband the Inquisition - and decide to move far, far away. Cullen suggests visiting his siblings, and Arian agrees. She just wants them to get away from Orlais. Cullen can do just that.

On the day the Exalted Council ceases, they stand with the rest of their inner circle, watching the now-sealed Breach from a distance. One by one their companions leave, until it’s just the Commander, no, _not_ the Commander; until it’s just _Cullen_ and _Arian_ standing side-by-side, hand-in-hand.

They know their job isn’t finished, that Solas will return someday, but for now they deserve a moment’s peace - the promise of reunion and new life on the horizon. 

Arian’s arm bothers her on occasion, which results in many nights spent with her in his embrace, reassuring her of her worth and his endless, undying devotion to her. It doesn’t faze him when she becomes doubtful, he knows she can’t help it. In a way it reminds him of himself, and that only encourages him to give all he can.

Cullen will not leave her side, not now, not ever. No matter what, where Arian Lavellan-Rutherford walks, he will follow.

He will fight.

He _will_ triumph.

**Author's Note:**

> I never write angst, but apparently I made a few people on tumblr cry with this lol
> 
>  **Kudos, comments, and anything else always make my day!** Thanks for reading!


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